A Broken Mirror World
by Solosam
Summary: Anna and Elsa move to England to start a new life together. Things go badly when Anna struggles with her sexual identity and Elsa's insecurities return. The appearance of an unexpected enemy just drives things from bad to worse. (Sequel to 'A Perfect Diamond World.')


_This story immediately follows 'A Perfect Diamond World.'_

* * *

**Prologue**

"What is this?" Elsa cried out. No one answered.

Slowly opening the ancient door, she found Anna. Utterly frozen.

"Anna?" Elsa asked. "Anna?"

She embraced her sister. She told Anna she loved her. She planted desperate kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips. Nothing. "ANNA!" she screamed. There was no echo. And it was then, clinging to her sister's frozen body for the second time in her short life, that she began to cry.

"Oh, God, Anna," she sobbed. Rolling tears dripped from her chin, froze in mid-air, and shattered when they struck the ground. In the middle of all this hideous cold, Elsa felt hot. There was this hot, stinging feeling inside that made pinpricks of sweat break out all over. It was a friend she knew very well. Guilt. Shame. She had done this.

* * *

**A Broken Mirror World**

* * *

"Anna..." Elsa whispered.

Her sister's lips touched the back of her neck. Anna marveled at it. Elsa's neck was like porcelain, or a blanket of fresh snow. Glorious, pure, unblemished... and so painfully smooth. It felt like silk on her lips. Elsa smelled like Christmas... or at least, what Anna imagined Christmas could smell like.

Elsa, for her part, sat at her spinning wheel. She had the power to conjure whatever silks dresses she might want, but there was something she found very calming about the rhythm of the treadle. It rocked back and forth hypnotically as she spun hoarfrost into gossamer. Except, when her sister was driving her crazy in the best possible way. Elsa turned her head and looked up. Anna put her hands on Elsa's cheek and kissed her... a long, deep wintergreen kiss.

And it was at that moment the bell rang.

"Company!" Anna gasped. There was, quite possibly, only one thing that could pull Anna's attention away at that moment. And their very first guest happened to be that thing.

"Anna, wait!" Elsa protested, not only because she was already aroused but, perhaps more importantly, they had not rehearsed their story.

The Doyle House was erected in 1795 in a conscious imitation of the Greek Erechtheion; the very height of Palladian sensibility. It was far too big for the two of them, being an eight-bedroom manor complete with ballroom and servant's quarters. In a way, it reminded them of the palace in Arendelle; big, dark, and tragically empty.

By the time Anna opened the door, she could barely contain herself. The coachman removed his top hat, and bowed. "Good morning, ma'am," he announced. "Lady Greenstreet and her daughter, Sadie, beg your indulgence."

"Of course! Of course!" Anna said. Then, hiding behind a door, she silently mouthed "Yay!"

Sadie Greenstreet was barely eighteen, just two years behind Anna herself. Bright amber eyes were the highlight of an otherwise plain, round face. She was not especially beautiful, and certainly not in comparison to her hostesses. She made up for it with a beautiful velvet green jacket. Lady Greenstreet, following her, was considerably more dour. Her face showed the marks of great worry and stress. Her clothes were dark, and simple. Their shoes made soft crunching sounds as they stepped across the fresh snow.

"And now we meet the luckiest woman in Beirasham," Sadie said, staring up at the Doyle House's columns. "I always thought the Doyle House was the prettiest... even when its covered with a layer of snow."

"I know, right?" Anna said. "You live down by the church right? I'm Anna, and this is Elsa."

Elsa slowly, cautiously, emerged from behind the door. She nervously played with her platinum blonde braid.

"Your accent is so funny," Sadie said with a giggle. "Where are you from?"

"Arendelle," Anna answered. "Or Norway. Arendelle is part of Norway." She always forgot the details.

"So you must be-"

"Sis-" Anna started.

"Friends," Elsa emphatically interrupted. "We grew up together in Andalsnes. Our husbands recently passed away. They ran a fishing business."

"It was tragic," Anna added, without breaking her smile.

"... and we've moved in here. By ourselves."

"Alone?" Lady Greenstreet asked, in a tone that suggested they might as well be streetwalkers. Or, even worse, Catholic.

"Of course," Elsa said, unashamed. "We don't have anyone left, we've inherited our husband's business, and we came out here to relax. Alone. We'll hire a maid sooner or later."

Later. As in, 'never.'

Sadie handed Anna an envelope. It was sealed with pretty red wax. "The Earl of Beirasham is throwing a dinner tomorrow. His wife has taken ill again, but he asked us to extend an invitation to come."

"If... it's not too early," Lady Greenstreet added.

"I'd love to!" Anna gasped, quickly breaking open the seal.

"Thank you so much, ma'am," Elsa said, taking her sister by the hand. "We'll consider it. Thank you again for stopping by." The door closed a little too fast to be considered polite.

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Anna asked, running her fingers through her strawberry blonde hair. "We have to go!"

"Not if you can't keep the story straight," her sister replied.

"Nobody knows us here! And nobody's going to find out! You moved us to the coldest, most obscure place in England, and you won't even let me go out to dinner?"

"I promise we'll go someday. Just not yet. We're not ready."

"You mean you're not ready."

Elsa took a deep breath.

Their unfurnished manor was only equipped with an old cast iron hob grate that simultaneously served as stove and fireplace. Anna stacked fresh wood, arranged the kindling the best that she could, and struck a light with flint and steel. The house was not especially cold, but Anna liked the heat nonetheless. Although it lacked furniture, the Doyle House did possess a single outstanding feature no other home could boast. Even the King didn't have a sister who could conjure a chest of perpetual ice to store their food. She cut hare, and vegetables, and boiled them in a stew.

She had always been self-reliant. Even in Arendelle, there weren't many servants around to do things for her. And they weren't royalty... not anymore. They had given up everything to come to a new place and start over, where they could be alone and free. Nobody to judge them. Nobody to think they were sick, or gross, or anything else. No need to keep secrets.

They owned no bed. Not yet, at least, so they sat on a pile of blankets and ate together. For a long time Anna sat there, next to Elsa, just eating and thinking. Was this domesticity? Was this what normal people did with their lives? Buy meat and vegetables at market, go to sleep, get up and do it over again?

Anna washed herself. Put her dress away. She only owned four dresses now, and a winter coat. Elsa could make herself whatever beautiful gown and glittering jewels she wanted... with just a thought and a wave of her hand. Anna told herself she wasn't jealous.

It was surprisingly easy to make money when you could control the weather and summon ice golems. They were well past the point of needing magic to run their lumber and fishing businesses. Having invested wisely and hired a competent manager, they could expect an annual income just shy of £2,000 a year. They were certainly doing well enough to be considered upper middle class, and that was more than most people in England could hope for.

"What are you thinking?" Elsa asked.

Anna took a deep breath.

Dumped the dirty water out the window.

Dried the dishes.

Domesticity.

"Anna?"

"Elsa," she asked, "Are we married?"

Elsa jumped as though she had seen a snake. A wave of frost raced across every surface. The rag in Anna's hands instantly froze to her fingers. "Umm… what?" Elsa asked, pouring herself a drink. "Of course not. I think I'd remember that."

"I'm not talking about getting married. I mean, this _thing_ we have? Is this what being married is like?"

Elsa stared at her glass. Crystalline flowers of ice bloomed on it.

"You don't have to answer now. It's just a weird little thought I had."

She touched her ring finger. Imagined what it would look like with a wedding band. And an engagement ring.

For a real engagement.

With her sister.

Anna shook her hands and wiped at the corners of her eyes. Time to change the subject.

"You want to see what I found at market today? Check these out." She reached into her sack and produced a handful of books. They were simple things, with cardboard covers and unevenly cut pages. Anna joined her sister, curled up in their pile of blankets.

"How much did those cost?" Elsa asked.

"Never mind. Just look at them. They're strange. 'The Dreams of Cthulhu.' 'A Princess for Ithaca.' 'The Empress of Dune.' And guess who wrote them?"

"Tycho Halvdan," Elsa read.

"Yeah. Listen to this stuff. 'The woman was an Empress because she needed no King or God; only the will to power. All beings create something beyond themselves. By controlling the power of creation, the Empress controlled reality and humanity.' I... I'm really not sure I get what that means. These are so weird."

Elsa flipped through a book. "He's writing down the things he saw in the Gate of Skadi."

"Look at this one!" Anna said, pointing to an illustration. "The Empress looks just like you. Except this one has bigger boobs. You don't think he drew that himself, do you?"

Her sister rolled her eyes. "I don't care. He was a jerk." She quickly set the book down, and curled up in the blankets.

"It says here he lives in Oslo."

"And what's mean for us? Were you just planning on dropping in to say hello?"

"I don't know. Maybe. One day."

"And next you'll want to go see Kristoff."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anna asked. Even though she knew perfectly well what it meant.

Elsa didn't reply. She just curled up and pulled the blanket over her head.

Anna sat there for a moment. The sun was just starting to set. An orange glow painted the bare walls of their bedroom. The only decoration was a framed reproduction of Giorgione's _Sleeping Venus_. Elsa's idea. Anna thought it belonged in the Museum of Things That Are Creepy And Weird. The house was too quiet. They had too many empty halls. A ball room where they would throw no balls. Just each other. And the silence.

"I'm sorry," Elsa whispered. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I know," Anna said. "I'm just a little blue. I've just been thinking... I've always wanted to have a wedding. A real one. With a pretty dress and rings and everything." She anxiously wound her ponytail around her finger. "And children. I dreamed about it for so long."

"We can't have any of that. Nobody would accept us."

"Says who? Why did we even come out here if we're just going to be cooped up in this place? How is this an improvement? Look, you're happy. I get that. I want you to be happy. But I'm not, Elsa. I need real live people, and movement, and life! This is just as much a prison as the castle was and I'm sorry but I can't do it any more."

"Anna," her sister said, climbing on top of the covers and taking her hands. "These people have strict rules. And those rules are going to keep us safe. Nobody's going to bother us or stick their noses in our business. They might knock on the door every now and then, and that's okay, but we can keep them all at a distance."

Then she leaned in, until their noses touched.

Anna breathed in Elsa's impossible Christmas smell.

"We're alone but we're free. And we have each other."

Elsa kissed her. Once. Twice. Finally, Anna relented, held her sister's cheeks, and kissed her long and deep. Wintergreen bliss.

"I've been denied so many things in my life," Elsa whispered. "I won't give you up. I love you. I have always loved you."

"Does that mean we're going to the party?"

"Yes."

They kissed one more time. Then Elsa peeled off Anna's nightshirt. She kissed down her neck, between her breasts, down to her bellybutton. Every perfect frozen kiss left behind a fractal snowflake that vanished in an instant. Elsa kept kissing, farther... farther... Until she kissed Anna's secret spot and made her gasp. She made love to her sister.

* * *

Fancy parties delighted Anna. Elsa, somewhat less so. It was beautiful to behold. She'd admit that much. As the saying went, 'Everybody punctual, everybody in their best looks, nary a tear and hardly a long face to be seen.'

"Remind me why we're doing this," Elsa said as they disembarked their hired carriage.

"Because I love parties and you love me," Anna replied. She held her dress and practically ran up the stairs to Bosacre Place. It was a glorious mansion, practically a palace, absolutely overrun with Classical forms and French roccoco decoration. A three-acre park preceded a grand staircase lit by two dozen lanterns. An unseasonable layer of snow only added to its beauty. The whole place just glowed with candlelit shades of amber.

"You came!" Sadie Greenstreet exclaimed, clapping her hands. She wore a beautiful pink dress positively dripping with lace and gold, accentuated with stark white gloves. Her opulence was a far cry from the sisters' simple dresses. They were dressed in dark colors, Anna wearing green and Elsa a shade of violet so dark it bordered on black. They were deliberately dreary, designed to convey the illusion that they were widows coming to the end of their mourning period. It would, as Elsa explained, give them the excuse to beg off any event they pleased. They both wore their hair up in a peasant's braid halo.

"You've met my mother," Sadie continued, "and this is my father, Sir Joseph Greenstreet." Sir and Lady Greenstreet were dressed in far plainer clothes than Sadie herself. They have obviously arrived at the point where they no longer felt the need to flaunt their wealth. Elsa thought Sir Greenstreet looked tired. His stringy, white hair was falling out and his cheeks were beginning to sag. It took Anna and Elsa an extra second to realize they were no longer nobility and offer Sir Greenstreet a curtsey. He kindly returned the gesture.

"I'm so excited!" Anna said. Sadie took them both by the hand and eagerly led them inside. Anna marveled at the grand ballroom. "It's so... opulent."

"Eccentric," Elsa corrected.

The ballroom was what Sadie described as the 'Egyptian Room.' Based on the art French soldiers brought back from North Africa, it was very much in vogue. It began with a decorative style Elsa would have described as 'Gilded Everything.' Pale yellow tiles and furnishings contrasted with blacks and dark blues. They mixed genuine pieces of Egyptian sculpture with exotic furniture and pretty mosaics. Servants in brown-and-yellow coats stood like statues, holding trays of wine. The glow of candlelight made the place look like they were living in a world of gold.

"And this is what you get when your cousin is the Duke of Manchester," Sadie explained.

The Master of Ceremonies announced them as the Misses Elsa Sorensen and Anna Bjorneboe, late of Norway. Another effort to conceal their true relationship.

"I was relieved to see you," Sadie continued. "There are so few women my own age. Beirasham isn't exactly the social center of England. Most of the young people already ran away to Manchester. Only the old farts are left. See there?" She pointed to a man in a black coat decorated with an excessive amount of gold braid. "Mister Fairfax. Owns all the banks in Manchester. And there..." She indicated a younger man in a navy tailcoat. "Oliver Montagu, Lord Beirasham's son, called 'Lord Clover' by tradition."

"And where is Lord Beirasham, himself?" Elsa asked, "I expected to be introduced."

Sadie looked about the room, rather perplexed. "I don't see him. And I wouldn't know his wife. He recently remarried. How odd that she's not here. Ooh, look!" Now Sadie subtly pointed to shorter man in his mid-thirties. His black officer's mess jacket and over a red waistcoat marked him as a member of the artillery corps. He spoke to a younger man with long, dark hair and an identical uniform.

"Not bad," Anna agreed.

Elsa shot her a sour look.

"Major Sebastian Burke. A widower from Bolton. Mother expects him to propose any day now. I know he thinks we're richer than we are, but I think he's grand and I'm sure he will come to love me."

"That's the dumbest-" Elsa began, but Anna shushed her.

Spotting Sadie, Major Burke crossed the room. He gave her a polite bow and an an insincere smile. "Miss Greenstreet. Lovely to see you. This my friend, Lieutenant Sir Wexley."

"Anna and Elsa," Sadie introduced. "Major Burke, my family's kindest friend."

It was at that precise moment that the orchestra changed its tune.

"Would you care to dance?" Major Burke asked.

"Of course!" Sadie agreed, practically blushing.

"Miss?" Lieutenant Wexley offered Anna his hand.

Anna glanced at Elsa, shrugged, and joined him for the dance.

Elsa seethed. It was one of those abominable double-dances that would carry on for half an hour at least. Anna and goddamned soldiers! Unbelievable! Elsa never thought of herself as a drinker, but at that moment she snatched up the nearest glass of Champagne and downed it in a single swallow. A gentleman approached and offered her a dance, but she waved him away.

"Sorry. Mourning. Boat accident. Very tragic."

Then she reached for another glass.

"Ma'am," another man asked.

"Oh for the love of-" Elsa turned, and found herself speaking to Sir Joseph Greenstreet. "I'm sorry," she quickly said. "I thought you were someone else."

"If you don't intend to dance," he explained, "I have an invitation from Lord Beirasham. He is upstairs with the Lady Beirasham, most sorry that he missed your arrival. His new wife is also late of Norway. Would you like to come meet her?"

Elsa stared at Anna, already taking her place in line for the dance. She looked at the glass in her hand, and handed it back to the waiter.

"Sure. Let's do that."

* * *

After the garish opulence of the ballroom, the drawing room seemed utterly subdued. It was small, and white, and decorated with all sorts of gilded floral patterns. Lord Eric Montagu, the Earl of Beirasham, sat at the table, with a glass of port. He was a fat and red-faced man whose jacket buttons were on the edge of popping clean off. Next to him sat a white-skinned beauty in an equally stark gown, with feathery black hair...

...and Elsa's face.

"My word," Montagu said, standing. "Iris... She looks just like you!"

Lady Beirasham dropped her teacup, and stared as though she had seen a ghost. Elsa could only imagine that same look of shock and horror on her own face. After all, they were identical. Not just practically identical, or uncannily similar, but utterly, completely identical... excepting only her raven-black hair.

"Elsa!" Iris cried out, breaking the horrible silence. She broke into a smile both wide and utterly fake. "My Lord, this is my cousin Elsa of Arendelle." She quickly crossed the room and embraced her... duplicate, for lack of a better word.

"Call me Lovenskiold," she whispered.

"Yes..." Elsa said, "Yes! Iris Lovenskiold, my cousin from..."

"Oslo," Iris finished.

"Cousins?" Sir Greenstreet interjected. "She could be your sister. Your twin, more like."

"No," Iris explained, "Just cousins. Please Elsa, would you join us?"

Elsa stood there, stiff as a board, before slowly finding her seat. Not for one instant did her eyes leave Iris's. So strange, so very strange. They both picked up a glass of Sauvignon and sipped simultaneously. Identically.

"So," Elsa finally said. "Iris. You've done well for yourself. How did this happen?"

"My story is boring," she replied. "I met my Lord Beirasham just six months ago. He was newly widowed, sad to say. I gave him what comfort I could, and he made me the happiest woman in Greater Manchester. How about yourself? Tell me, how is your sister, Anna?"

Elsa took in a sharp breath. Every hair on her body stood on end. A chill down the spine was a rare thing, for her. She resisted the urge to panic. Conceal, don't feel. Put on a show.

"Iris," the Earl interrupted. "Didn't you have a sister named Anna?"

"It's a common enough name in Norway," Elsa quickly explained. "In fact, my friend and housemate is also named Anna. Anna Bjorneboe. Of Andalsnes."

"Did you just feel a draft?" Greenstreet asked. "It's very chill in here."

So this is it, Elsa thought. What the French called 'le bon ton.' She had stepped into an arena she was not prepared for, a world of glitter and gilding that served as the battlefield of England's elite. Verbal sparring with the Duke of Weselton was nothing compared to this. She was in a duel, no doubt about it. However prim and proper it all might look, she was in a battle just as cruel... and deadly... as two gladiators in an arena. And by the Gods, did the crowd love to see one fall.

"Do you still like to read?" Iris asked. She maintained the initiative. To pursue the line of conversation would be to follow her into some trap. To deny it would be to mark herself an uncultured ignoramus. Elsa made her choice.

"Yes," she riposted. "Shakespeare. Spencer. Goethe. I'm quite fond of _Faust_. How about you?"

The Earl spoke next. "Bloody piece of German -"

"I adore it," Iris interrupted. "But there's a new sensation out of Oslo. His work just recently arrived in England. Are you familiar with Tycho Halvdan?"

"Only a little. Which is your favorite?" Elsa immediately regretted her question. She was still ceding Iris the initiative.

"'The Empress of Dune.' It's an astonishing book. Have you read it?"

"I flipped through it."

"Did you read the part where the Empress meets the Princess of Caladan? 'According to the religion of beauty it was right that they should be united, but the corrupted currents of law, morality, and church do not allow it. Tragic then, as the soul's duty is submission to the divinity of beauty.' Scandalous. Positively scandalous."

"That sounds like a love story to me," Elsa said with a smile.

"I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about," Lord Beirasham said.

"Don't worry about it, Darling. We're just discussing some Norwegian books. Nothing you'd be familiar with."

"Well, fine, then, I'm going downstairs."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself," Iris said. "We will take a tour. We have so much to talk about."

* * *

"Walk with me, Elsa. I'd love to show you our gallery." Iris, whoever she was, held out her hand.

Elsa looked around the room, hoping for a way out. Everyone was staring at her expectantly. Slowly, very slowly, she rose, excused herself, and took Iris' hand. Even through silk gloves her touch felt poisonous... Incestuous, Elsa thought, with the greatest possible irony. Iris led her, arm in arm, through a pair of glass doors into a lamp-lit hall full of paintings and sculpture. She sipped from a glass of Sauvignon as they walked.

"Look here," she said. "Titian's _Venus Anadyomene_. The original. What do you think?"

"I think we have the same taste in art," Elsa replied.

"And other things."

"Who are you?" Elsa demanded.

"I'm you. From behind the looking-glass."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Smile, dear," Iris led her on, still arm-in-arm. She took another sip. "We want them to think we're having fun." Elsa glanced over her shoulder. The party glanced at them through the glass doors. All atwitter and gossiping, she expected.

"Explain."

"There are many worlds. Two, at least, being virtually identical. A small difference here and there. The biggest is that one is ruled by the Vanir and the other by the Aesir."

"The two tribes of Gods."

"Yes. And here I thought we were supposed to be Lutheran. Anyway, did you have an experience with the Gates of Skadi? Did you see all reality and choose a new place for yourself?"

"I did," Elsa said.

"And did Anna come with you?"

"Yes."

The wineglass exploded in Iris' hand. She was left holding the stem, covered in a layer of ice. A sudden wind began to howl. Frost crept across the windows. Iris looked at the broken piece of glass in her hand, and let it drop from her fingers. It shattered on the floor.

"Don't try to conceal it," Elsa said. "It only makes it worse."

Iris gave her a tender smile. "Oh my dear, you actually think I give a shit. How sweet."

"So... In your world... What happened to Anna?"

"My Anna was a very sweet girl. I loved her very much. But she was also confused. I only ever desired women."

"That's one way to put it," Elsa admitted.

"Anna was... is... different. She spent her whole life expecting to marry a man. She loved me, or us, sorry, but she was not _in love_ with us."

"...sexually."

"No," Iris said. "That came later. After we became Queen. She courted Kristoff, for a time."

"I remember," Elsa said.

"Do you remember the first time you made love to her? When she wept? How scared she was? How uncertain?"

"It was a big step. I didn't blame her. We both needed time to... understand. But she left Kristoff for me. What happened?"

"Tycho Halvdan," Iris said.

"What?" Elsa gasped, finally pulling her hand away from Iris'. She took a frightened step back, covering her gaping mouth. Iris just folded her hands, and regarded her with a strange mixture of pity and contempt. "You can't... Oh, God..." Elsa put her hand on her brow, and had to steady herself on the wall. "So it was true..."

"I suspected," Iris said. "The unprompted conversations. The cups of hot chocolate. The way she looked at him. She might not have even understood it, herself. She still desires men."

"What happened?" Elsa asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"At the Gates of Skadi, we found a way out. We'd have to leave everything behind... Arendelle, the crown, all of that... But it didn't matter to me. We could be together forever. We would have each other."

"But she chose-"

"- Tycho. He called out her name, and she chose him over me. I was heartbroken. Actually, that's putting it mildly. It killed me. And I left. Took on an alias. Started over."

"Oh, no..." Elsa whispered. She was overwhelmed with empathy. The very thought that Anna might not be happy with her brought tears to her eyes.

As it did Iris's. A single diamond tear rolled down her perfect cheek, and froze solid before it reached her chin.

"Don't," Iris warned. "I fled. Not just from Arendelle, but that entire reality. I didn't want to be in the same universe as her. That's how hurt I was. I never expected to run into you, here. I thought it was impossible."

"But... You wanted somewhere new... Secluded, a place where people wouldn't pry..."

"... and we picked the coldest place in England. The Earldom of Goddamned Nowhere, just outside Manchester. I should have expected it. We have the same experience, the same mind. We want the same things. So we came to the same place. Arrived at the same conclusions."

"I don't understand," Elsa said. She paced uncomfortably and wrung her hands. "If you're me, you only love women. Why are you-"

"Because the Earl is rich. His cousin is the Duke of Manchester. You know what they say about reigning in Hell. If I can't be with Anna, it hardly matters what else I do with my life."

The door suddenly cracked. It was Lord Beirasham. Fat. Red-faced. Shy. Elsa may have had no interest in men, but she could not comprehend how Iris could be with one... especially this one. How dead she must be inside.

"My Lady," he said, "Dinner is about to begin. Are you feeling well?"

"Of course," Iris lied, wiping her cheek. "Just very... emotional."

"Oh," Lord Beirasham muttered. "I understand." He closed the door behind him.

Elsa was certain that he did not understand at all.

"Time to eat," Iris said, offering her hand.

Elsa looked at it like a snake about to bite. "What do you want?" she demanded.

Iris took an angry step forward. Broken shards of glass crackled under her foot. She leaned in, so uncomfortably close that Elsa could practically smell her wintergreen breath. Iris studied Elsa's face... then gently caressed it. Elsa slapped her hand away.

"I want you to leave," Iris demanded. "Go somewhere far away. Take _your_ Anna with you. Norway, the Americas... Antarctica, for all I care. But don't ever set foot on England again, or I start telling uncomfortable secrets."

Elsa glared at her defiantly.

"Now come, dear. Dinner's ready."

* * *

And so it was. Iris, as hostess, commanded the best seats in the table. The oldest and most distinguished visitors considered it an honor to sit next to her. No doubt they would dream about Lord Beirasham's beautiful wife for weeks afterward. Sir and Lady Greenstreet sat directly across from her. Anna sat in the middle of the table with Sadie to her left, and an empty chair to her right. When Elsa saw Lieutenant Wexley approach, she quickly stole the seat.

"Elsa," Anna whispered. "What's wrong? We missed you. Everyone was dancing and chatting and oh sweet Christ why does that woman have your face?"

"I'll explain later," Elsa said. "Just don't antagonize her. Don't talk to her, don't even look at her."

Stress. So much unbelievable stress. Elsa's head hurt and her shoulders cramped. Outside the sheltered hall, sleet was falling in an uncontrollable torrent. It had been a long time since Elsa met a storm she couldn't control. And right now, it felt like nothing was in her control at all.

The waiters made a point of dragging the whole thing out into some kind of painful eternity. They served six courses of unimpressively small portions. A little salad. A fruit. Some unidentifiable sort of fowl. Fish, with spices. Two servings of soup. It was exceedingly boring. Especially so when Elsa had to suffer through the banal chitchat of thirty wealthy homebodies who had never done anything in life except sit around and be rich.

They talked about weather. And taxes. And parliament. Sadie threw random flatteries at Major Burke. Lieutenant Wexley did the same to Anna, not that she noticed. Iris, who may as well have been Queen of the Dining Room, said nothing at all but frequently glared.

"I spent sixteen years locked in my room and my life was more interesting than this," Elsa whispered.

"I had better conversations with the paintings," Anna agreed.

And then, after the seventh and hopefully final course, Iris finally found something to say.

"Lady Greenstreet?" Iris asked, "To where are you moving?"

"I'm sorry?" the Lady replied.

"Moving? Your family is leaving Beirasham, is it not?"

"No, my dear. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Oh..." Iris said. "I'm confused then. If you're not moving, why are you selling all your furniture?"

The table instantly fell silent. Utter, total, vacuous silence. For a long moment, no one moved nor spoke. They just stared, goggle-eyed and in shock.

Someone dropped a fork.

And with that, Sadie burst into tears and ran from the room, crying the whole way.

"I'm sorry," Iris said, standing. "I'm suddenly feeling ill. I hope you all will excuse me."

* * *

"What just happened?" Anna asked.

She and her sister walked out into the freezing sleet. Anna shivered beneath her umbrella and thick winter coat. Elsa held her head high. She didn't even bother to retrieve her coat, and she didn't care who saw. She took long, angry strides straight to the waiting carriage, very nearly leaving her sister behind.

"Aren't you cold, ma'am?" the coachman asked. He himself was shivering in the cold, beneath his greatcoat and tricorne hat.

"Take us home," she said, soaked to the bone but utterly immune to the cold. "Now, please."

"No, seriously, what just happened?" Anna asked as the coach lurched. She sat there, shivering in her damp coat. Elsa stared out the window, lost in thought.

"She was sending us a message," Elsa said.

"Spell it out for me."

"She just told everyone in Beirasham that Sadie's family is broke. There's no chance that Major Burke will want to marry her now. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"... because Major Burke is on half pay," Anna realized.

"What's that?"

"Lieutenant Wexley mentioned he was on half pay. It means he's a reservist. Most of them are, now that the French are done. I guess the whole 'buying your commission' thing makes sense after all."

"Please, Anna, stop talking about soldiers. It gives me a headache."

Anna took a deep breath, and sighed. "Poor Sadie. She can go on, right? Make her own way?"

"If she wants to be a governess, yes," Elsa explained. "It's much harder for women to make a living without magic. She'll have to wait until her family's fortunes improve, or she finds someone who doesn't care about money. Guess which one will happen first."

"Don't be cynical. Now, who was that?"

"She's me," Elsa said. "A different version of me. From a world where things didn't work out... not for her, at least."

"How is that- The Gate! That's it! But what does she want?"

"She wants us gone."

* * *

"You're handling this better than I thought," Elsa said. It was almost midnight and the sleet hadn't stopped falling. Anna sat on the pile of blankets that served as their bed. A single candle illuminated her reading, and very little else.

"The evil mirror Elsa thing?" Anna shrugged, not looking up from the book. "My sister is the Mistress of Wind and Sky, pirates took me to Jotunnheim, and we escaped skipped ten years into the future. You get numb to it after a while."

"Are you reading that book again?" Elsa asked.

"Yeah. It's pretty dense. Listen to this: 'Morality is traditionally the artifice of the powerful. When power, strength, and wealth become equated with virtue, the weak and the poor become wicked by default and so become deserving of their poverty.' Do you think that's what all this is about? The pomp and ceremony? Perpetuating money and power?"

"I don't know, Anna," Elsa said, brushing her hair before bed.

Her sister's face turned sour, but she didn't look up. Elsa saw it nonetheless.

"Oh, Anna," Elsa said, setting aside the book and taking her sister in her arms. "I'm sorry. I've been awful lately."

"You've been distant. It hasn't made anything easier. It's just..." Anna started, then shut the book. "I think you're just dealing with this whole thing better than I am. It's like, you know who you are. You're fine with... this... us... and you've got it all figured out. But I'm still confused, Elsa. I still want a normal life."

"What? You mean living here? Or... us?" Elsa took a deep breath. "I thought you were happy with me."

"Look," Anna said, taking her hand. "You know who you are. You're happy with who you are. I'm happy with who you are. Now I've got to be happy with myself. And that's not your fault and there's nothing you can do about it. I... I've just got to get used to things."

"Do you want to be like Sadie?" Elsa asked. "Do you want to spend your days throwing yourself at half-pay soldiers and wishing someone would sweep you off your feet? And reading those goddamned books?"

"What? Where is this coming from?" Anna jumped up and started to pace. "What is wrong with you? You've been so distant and messed up lately! Are you seriously jealous that I flirt with men? You know I love you! Why are you being this way?"

"Because men give you something I don't!"

Anna stopped in her tracks. Her fingers began to shake. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision and just trembling with expectation that they could fall. For a moment she forced herself to look away, then slowly turned to face her sister.

"That..." Anna started, pointing a finger. "That's not true."

"I know you kissed Tycho Halvdan."

Anna gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "No! That- No! How?"

"When you were in the brig together, Captain Hook had someone spying on you. He told me. And at first I didn't believe him... I thought he was just trying to drive us apart. Then I thought how much you were always flirting with him. And then I realized it was true."

"That's not fair, Elsa!" Anna said. She was actually crying now. Her face was red. Hot tears were running down her cheeks. "You weren't there! I was sick and tired and cold and he was there for me and you weren't! And we both thought we were going to have to marry_ men_ sooner or later. And I thought, 'Well, fuck it,' because I've seen worse men and at least this one knows about... this... _thing_ that we do."

"I forgive you, Anna. It's okay."

"No, its not," she said, sobbing. "Because I feel like I'm the one that's always got to fix things. I'm the one that chases you, I'm the one that defends you, I'm the one that gave up a life and a wedding and... _everything_ to be with you because that's how much I love you." She took a minute, gasped for air, and rubbed her red eyes. "And now we're alone in this horrible place and I find out you don't trust me!"

"I don't know what to say..."

"You never do, Elsa. And that's another thing... I've spent my whole life waiting for you and worrying about _your_ feelings. I'm so afraid of hurting you that I never tell you what I really want out of life and it's killing me. And I can't... I never thought... I never thought I'd go through life being..."

"Say it," Elsa demanded.

"No," Anna said, taking deep breaths. "I'm not leaving, Elsa. I'm really not. I love you so much. And I'm not giving up. But I need to figure things out."

"Anna," Elsa whispered, taking her hand and pressing it against her chest. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry. I really am. Make me understand and we can solve this."

"Okay." Anna wiped her eyes. "I don't want to feel trapped. I don't want to get to the point where I start to resent you. Or worry that if I don't love you _enough_ you'll freeze the whole world. Those are the things I think about at night."

"It's not your _job_ to love me," Elsa said. "You can say, 'no.' It would break my heart and I'd be devastated, but... But I'm not going to hold you hostage."

"Isn't that what happened to Other Elsa? And we see how well that's turning out." She gestured to the windows, still battered by uncontrollable sleet.

"Anna, if you love me, stay with me. If you don't, don't. I love you and I want you to be happy."

"I'm staying," Anna said. "I just worry more than I let on."

"I know."

They kissed, but they did not make love that night.

* * *

"This is a disaster," Lord Beirasham said, surveying the hideous plain of ice in the morning light. He stood at his window, shaking his head. The night's storm had left every conceivable surface frozen over. "It's already May," he muttered.

"I'm sure it will be fine, dear," Iris said. She sat at his desk, busily working on her correspondence. Her handwriting was beautiful. It was a shame she wrote so few letters.

"The crops will die. And I don't even want to think about what happened to the cattle. And every time it gets cold, my war wound acts up."

Iris sighed, and rolled her eyes. If the Earl of Beirasham didn't like the cold, then he had certainly married poorly. Was this the kind of insufferable tedium all wives had to put up with? Spend the day writing letters and muttering platitudes, all so she could pretend to enjoy sex once a week? Gods, how she prayed he would take a mistress. And at that moment, Iris resolved to hire a more attractive maid.

"And don't even get me started on your behavior. I was ashamed."

"It was an innocent question," she said. "By the way, where is your seal?"

"Top drawer. On the left."

Iris opened the drawer, and found a messy collection of pens and inks and papers. She rifled around just a bit, found the seal, and then stopped. There was something curious in the drawer. A medal. It was bronze, in the shape of a Maltese Cross, and very, very familiar. Her husband continued to babble on about her various indiscretions, but Iris was no longer listening. She slowly pulled the medal from the drawer.

"Eric, what is this?"

"What? That? Nothing. Just a souvenir I picked up during the war."

"You were in the Navy, weren't you?"

"Yes. Spent some years on the _Indefatigable_."

"This is a Medal of the Order of St. Olav. It's... It's from Arendelle."

"Arendelle?" the Earl asked himself. "That's right. _Indefatigable _pursued a ship from Arendelle once. It was during the second British action in Copenhagen. Mistook it for a ship from Norway-Denmark. It fled into a storm, and was lost to us. Picked up a few survivors, though."

Lord Beirasham crossed the room, and attempted to pour himself a brandy. It was frozen solid. His teeth abruptly began to chatter. "Damn, it's cold in here... How queer," he said. "I've never seen liquor freeze before."

"The man who owned this medal..." Iris asked, "What happened to him?"

"If I remember right, he was some noble. We ransomed him to Denmark."

Iris could hear her heart pounding in her ears. It was racing, about to burst. Her face was flushed. Her hands trembled. She did not want to look at the back of the medal. But she did anyway. With excruciating slowness, she turned the medal over.

It read:

_**HRH **_

_**ADGAR II**_

_**1790**_

Iris screamed.

* * *

"Hello?" Anna asked. Knocking on the Greenstreet's door. It was frighteningly cold out, and the whole world seemed made of ice. She had nearly slipped three times just on the short walk from the Doyle House. She shivered, even under her layers of wool.

Sir Greenstreet answered the door himself.

"Hi," she said. "I just wanted to see if Sadie was alright."

"Are you mad, child?" Greenstreet asked. "What are you doing out here by yourself? Come inside before you freeze to death. Rebecca, put on some tea."

"Coldcoldcoldcoldcold," Anna chanted as she sort of waddled indoors. Her stockings were frozen stiff, and stung every time they touched her skin. The door closed behind her, and Anna finally took a moment to look about. Iris was right. The house was practically empty. Not as bad as the still-unfurnished Doyle House, but still a far cry from the height of its glory. She could see the dust outlines and unbleached paint that marked where furniture had recently been moved. Candles sat on wooden coasters... No silver candlesticks for this family. Cognitively, she knew they were still better off than the vast majority of Britons, but it was still sad to see a family in decline.

"She hasn't come out all night," he said, pointing at a door. "Maybe she'll listen to you."

Anna crept up to it. She didn't hear anything. "Sadie?" she asked. Nothing. Anna delivered her customary 'shave-and-a-haircut' knock. "Sadie?"

Then it occurred to her to ask something really, really stupid.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

There was a moment of silence.

"What?" Sadie asked, from inside the room.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" Anna repeated.

A pause.

"Why?"

Just then, it occurred to Anna that she really didn't know what to say. She had never made it this far with Elsa.

"Look, Sadie, I get that you're kinda in this zone where you don't really want to be part of the world, and I get that. I really do. Elsa did the exact same thing for... well... it doesn't matter how long. Can I please come in and talk to you?"

She heard a bolt turn, and the door creaked open.

Victory! This had never actually happened before!

Sadie's room was marginally less dismal than the rest of the house. It was cold, and dark, but at least it appeared to have all its furniture. The young woman's gown and jewelry lay in a heap on the floor. She sat on the bed, still in her nightclothes, wrapped up in wool blankets. It was obvious she had made the mistake of sleeping in her makeup.

"Oh, Sadie, come here," Anna said, embracing her. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"She was so mean," Sadie said. There were tears in her eyes. "It was just so petty and humiliating and... _cold_. I never even met her before. Why would she do something like that?"

"I don't know," Anna lied. She knew perfectly well why Iris had done it. To prove that she could and she would. "I'm sure things will work out, though."

"Please don't patronize me."

"Look, Sadie, you want to hear my story? I promised to marry a man who just wanted my money. And power. Mostly power. But I promised to marry him and didn't realize what kind of person he was, and he straight-up tried to murder me and Elsa."

Sadie stared at Anna as though she was the stupidest human being alive. "I don't believe that," she said.

"It's true, and I'm not saying it's a contest for epic courtship fails, I'm just saying that my life went to hell and I pulled through. There's so much more to come. Me and Elsa can give you money. We don't need it. And in a few months nobody will remember any of this and you can find someone new."

"But I don't want anybody," Sadie pouted. "I want Sebastian."

"But he doesn't want you. Did he defend you? Did he follow you when you ran away from the dinner? How much was your dowry anyway?"

"A thousand pounds."

"Jeebus frick," Anna said. "What kind of wealthy snob is going to marry a girl he doesn't love for a thousand pounds? Think about that. Did he have gambling debts or something? Is he still paying off the balance on his shiny new cannon or whatever it is men buy? I'd think so. And then what? He blows your dowry and realizes that your family doesn't have anything left. And how do you think that would work out?"

"...not well," Sadie admitted.

"Right. So it looks to me like you dodged a bullet. And if he really loved you, he'd marry you anyway."

"I knew he didn't love me. I was hoping that he would start-"

"Sadiesadiesadie," Anna said, cupping the girl's cheeks in her hands. "Listen to me when I say this: That. Is. Retarded. What do British people say?"

"Bollixed. Blinkered. Pear-shaped."

"Exactly. Sadie, look, if you need someone else to make you happy then you're never going to _be_ happy. You're just going go through life getting jerked around because you live and die based on what someone else wants from-

* * *

Something was wrong.

Elsa felt it immediately. It was like a wave of cold air washed over her... but not just cool, or frosty, or even freezing... It was a sensation colder than anything she had ever felt before. She imagined that, were it not for her magical immunity to cold, she would have died of sheer shock right then and there.

"Iris," she whispered. Her words sounded strangely dead.

Elsa slowly stepped outside. The world as frozen. Not just frozen with ice – it had been that way all morning – but frozen in time. A carriage stood still in the street. The horse was in mid-canter. The driver might as well have been a statue. She saw birds laying on the ice in awkward positions, as though they had flash-frozen and fell out of the air. And through it all, there was this horrible, vacuous silence. No wind. No animals. No footsteps, not even her own. It was so quiet Elsa could hear the beating of her heart and the blood trickling through her own veins.

What was this?

Suddenly remembering Anna, she took off down the street at a run, and didn't stop until she arrived at Sadie's house. She didn't know it for certain, but it was next to church, and when she opened the door she found Sir and Lady Greenstreet at their breakfast. Neither of them moved. They just sat there, at the table, stock-still. Elsa touched Sir Greenstreet experimentally. He rocked back and forth. She poked their tea. It acted like a viscous liquid, like unbelievably cold molasses. And everything was so dim! It was as though the sun was losing its strength.

"What is this?" she cried out, and no one answered.

Opening the door to Sadie's room, she found Anna. Utterly frozen.

"Anna?" Elsa asked. "Anna?"

She embraced her sister. She told Anna she loved her. She planted desperate kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips. Nothing. "ANNA!" she screamed. There was no echo. And it was then, clinging to her sister's frozen body for the second time in her short life, that she began to cry.

"Oh, God, Anna," she sobbed. Rolling tears dripped from her chin, froze in mid-air, and shattered when they struck the ground. In the middle of all this hideous cold, Elsa felt hot. There was this hot, stinging feeling inside that made pinpricks of sweat break out all over. It was a friend she knew very well. Guilt. Shame. She had done this. Even if Iris-Elsa had done it, Elsa-Elsa had set it all in motion with her horrible ideas.

She sat against a wall and wept. There was an emptiness now. She was not Elsa... she was a million miles away watching Elsa sob. Every time she blinked her eyes, images of Anna flashed in her mind.

Anna.

Her sister.

Her lover.

Her bride.

"Iris," Elsa whispered to herself. She abruptly rose, wiped her face, and marched out.

Then she stopped.

A man stood before her. A ragged old man dressed in sealskin. He wore a floppy slouch hat, and carried a walking stick. His beard was long, and beginning to shift from brown to gray. And he was miraculously animate.

"Hail to thee, Elsa Winter-Born," the strange man said with a bow.

"Who-"

"I am Freyr of the Vanir. Quite a pickle, this is. I can only imagine what Wotan thought when you blinked out of reality. But this... yes, this takes the cake, as they say.

"What is this?" Elsa asked.

"This is heat death. Maximum entropy. All heat is motion and all motion has ceased. All energy is evenly distributed. The alternate Elsa, in her sorrow, has frozen time itself."

"I don't understand," Elsa said.

"Attempt to use your magic," the Old God commanded.

Elsa made fist, and then opened it. Nothing. She flailed her hands several times, waiting for a stream of ice and snow to explode from her fingertips. Absolutely nothing happened.

"No good? That's because it's impossible to make this world any colder than it already is. Cold is not something you create. It is subtraction, and this is what absolute zero looks like. The only reason you even continue to exist is because... well... the cold never bothered you anyway, did it?"

"But that means Iris is still alive?"

"Oh, everyone is alive," Freyr explained, walking alongside her. "It's thermodynamics that are dead. Don't worry yourself. It's all math and science that won't be invented for quite some time. So are you done blaming yourself and ready to move on?"

"I still feel like I started all this... I set it motion a long time ago, back when I first fell in love..."

"With Anna? Piss on that. This isn't your doing. I never understood this guilt complex thing you have. The world doesn't begin and end with you. This is about Elsa, from the other world, who never learned to stand on her own two feet."

"How do you know all of this?" Elsa asked.

The Old God laughed. "You have more important things to worry about. Just know for now that you are destined to be among the Great Jarls of Vanaheim, and we will ask much of you. And if our chieftains can't think, and act, and fight for themselves, we'll all be in a world of hurt."

"Okay..." Elsa said, approaching utter confusion. "I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it. So how do I solve this?"

"I don't know that you can. This is your duplicate's doing, and only she can undo it."

"Then I'm going to make her fix it," Elsa immediately set off down the road with long, angry strides.

"Wait, child," Freyr said. "Take this with you. It is the sword Nothung, and you might need it, now that you have no magic."

Elsa took the sword. It was an ugly thing. A crude Viking weapon with a dull edge and a thousand little chips and dings. The sword was gray as slate. Elsa was no expert, but even she could see that it couldn't cut a cheesecake. It could only hack. Messily.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Do whatever you have to. Save this world before her sadness snuffs out the sun."

And then he was gone.

* * *

It took the better part of an hour to walk the three miles to Bosacre Place. The sword rested on her shoulder. It was a lonely, quiet walk. Elsa was consistently stunned by the maddening lack of sound. After the first twenty minutes she removed her shoes, and walked barefoot across the ice.

Icicles hung from every tree. The sky was an endless, opaque gray. She crossed a brook that did not move. It was as still and as smooth as a mirror. Every blade of grass crunched and snapped beneath her toes. They might has well have been tiny frozen stalagmites, tread upon by a giant. And the world smelled of nothing at all. Absolutely nothing.

Heat death, he had called it.

For a moment, Elsa pondered the insanity of speaking to a Vanir God. Were it not for the sword on her shoulder, she would suspect she had hallucinated the entire conversation in her madness. She briefly wondered what kind of life it must be when meeting a God didn't even rate as the most interesting thing to happen that day.

And Elsa realized she was lonely. Alone. Free. But lonely. What she would have given for Anna to be next to her, if only to have someone to share her misery. And failing that, she would have happily taken Kristoff. Or Olaf. A wry smile crossed her face when she realized that here, now, she might even welcome Tycho Asshole Halvdan.

And she thought about a great many other things.

Then, finally she stood at the end of her long walk. She crossed the park to Bosacre Place and climbed the great stair to the main door. The handle moved easily, but the door seemed stuck and took a surprising amount of effort to open. Elsa stepped into the Earl's foyer, holding the sword in front of her. She swung it left, then right, expecting to fend off some sudden attack. It did occur to her that she had no idea how to use the damned thing, and hoped that Iris-Elsa was similarly inept.

The Egyptian ballroom was littered with frozen servants. Here, a woman eternally stuck in the act of sweeping. There, a man in a powdered wig carried a tray of breakfast pastries. And at the bottom of the stairs, Elsa saw a butler turned on his side. He had evidently frozen in mid-stride and lost his balance.

She did not have time to appreciate the absurdity. Instead, she held the sword near her chest and took slow, deliberate steps. Her ears were alert, but there was no sound. It did not comfort her. All sound seemed deadened in this world. There was no echo. Even if Iris was making some noise, she might never hear it at all.

Elsa ascended a staircase. The process was painfully slow. She tested every single step, and then slowly shifted her weight. Even the tiniest creak in the wood made her cringe. It was then that she realized how fast her heart was racing. And it was so dark! None of the candles could hold a flame, now. Still creeping, still clutching the sword, she made her way to the bedroom door. Taking a moment to press her ear against the wood, she heard nothing. A glance through the keyhole revealed Lord Beirasham himself. He was the most animated of all the flash-frozen mannequins she had seen... trapped in the middle of some wild, argumentative gesture.

Tightening her grip on Nothung, Elsa took a deep breath, and opened the door.

* * *

Iris-Elsa sat on the floor. White streaks of frost exploded out from her in every direction. Elsa stood over her, sword in hand, looking down at her duplicate. She was stunned at how utterly pathetic Iris looked. And this room... Elsa quickly glanced about. It was larger than her room at Arendelle, but it still felt so claustrophobic that it made her chest tight.

"Are you going to kill me?" Iris asked.

Elsa looked at her sword.

"No," she said. "I don't think so." And she casually tossed it onto the bed. It was only at that moment that she realized Iris cradled a pistol in her hands.

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"I can't," Iris confessed. "I tried to kill myself. The powder won't burn. Not in this place."

Elsa took the gun from her and dropped it onto the bed as well. Then she sat down, her back against a bureau, and sighed. Iris' cheeks were streaked with white stripes of frost. She had been mourning... well... everything, Elsa supposed, since she had destroyed the world, for all intents and purposes.

"What are you going to do now?" Elsa asked.

"I don't know," Iris whispered. "I'm so angry. I hate everything. I always dreamed my life would be... I don't know... better."

"Don't you care about anyone else in this world?"

"Yes. I care about Anna. But my Anna's not in this world. And I can't live without her."

"Sure you can," Elsa said.

"What?" Iris snapped.

"I would give her up if it could undo... _this_. Being alive in a world that actually moves is more important to me than love. I don't know how she'd feel about it. I imagine she might resent it if I traded her to you."

"Stop joking," Iris said. "It won't work. I'm you and you're me. If I can't survive without Anna, I know you can't either."

"That's where you're wrong. If Anna found someone else who made her happy, I'd let her go. If she wanted a real life and a real husband, I'd let her go. It would break my heart, but I want her to be happy."

"How can you do that?"

"Because I learned to be happy with myself."

There was a long, sad silence.

"You don't know me," Iris said.

"I think I do. If our worlds diverged at the Gates of Skadi, then that means that for twenty-two years, I knew you very, very well. So I'm going to throw out a theory. In your world, Anna left you for Tycho. Why would she do that?"

"I don't know."

"I don't think that's where our worlds diverged," Elsa said. "I think it happened a long time before that. I learned to love myself and you didn't. That's why I can live without her and you can't. Your Anna was a crutch."

"That's not true!" Iris said, leaping to her feet.

"Then why are you so angry?" Elsa shouted, rising to meet her challenge. "She didn't leave you for a man, she ran away because she couldn't stand you anymore!"

Iris raised her hand as though she was about to strike.

Elsa just looked her in the eye. After a moment, she backed down.

"And what kind of life is it, following your magic sister around because your love is the only thing that keeps the world turning? What kind of burden is that? Since when does she _have__to_ love you, or else? That's a cold life."

Iris couldn't look at Elsa anymore.

"The one thing I don't understand is why now? What made you wait overnight before you became too sad for the world to bear it?"

"This," Iris said, handing her the medal.

"This is Father's!" Elsa shouted.

"Thank you. I was so confused."

"Please don't be sarcastic," Elsa said. "It doesn't help anyone. Where did you find this?"

"His Divine Majesty, the Earl of Bloody Beirasham. It was in his desk drawer. He was there when Father was captured."

"What?"

"Captured by the British. Ransomed to Denmark. Never heard from again. Two years later, King Frederick snatches up Arendelle. Funny coincidence."

"No," Elsa said. "Turning it over in her hands. No, it's not funny. And its not a coincidence. Oh Elsa..." It sounded strange to be calling this woman by her own name. "Elsa... I understand now."

"It's like something out of Shakespeare, right? 'Let not your sorrows die...'"

"'... though I myself be dead."

Iris took a deep breath and sat on the bed. Elsa sat next to her. They both rested their chins on their hands. There was another long silence. But it was not dreadful. Hardly even tense. Elsa could practically feel the stress flowing out of them like an opened dam.

"I can hardly blame you," Elsa said. "If you hadn't already frozen the world, I think I might have."

"That's good to hear. Do you think Father is alive, somewhere?"

"I don't know," Elsa replied. "But if it makes you happy to think so, I suggest you run with it."

Another long silence.

"I've got to tell you something," Iris finally said.

"What's that?"

"You're a horrible liar."

"How so?"

"At the dinner you said you read Spencer. That's a lie. Nobody ever reads Spencer. Even if you're a child locked in her bedroom for sixteen years, doing nothing at all is still better than reading Spencer."

"You've got me there," Elsa confessed.

There was another long silence.

Then slowly, tentatively, Iris took Elsa's hand.

"I'm so sorry," she said, crying again.

"I know," Elsa said, taking Iris in her arms and holding her against your breath. "And it's okay. I understand now. And I'm here for you. I care."

"You can't mean that."

"I do. I love myself. And you're me. So I love you, too. Not as much as Anna. But I care. A little."

"You're awful!" Iris said, with a laugh.

"If I am, then so are you. Oh, Iris... it's time you lived your own life. There's so much out there for you. You don't even know."

* * *

The world came back to life.

* * *

"Let me ask you," Elsa said as they walked across the thickest, lushest green grass England had to offer. "You always loved women, right?"

"Right," Iris said, taking a bite of a fresh apple.

"See, but I only ever loved Anna. I think I like women exclusively, but I don't know. I never tried men at all."

"Are you saying I should switch sides?" Iris asked.

"I don't know. You could try something new. It'll probably be easier than trying to track down another lesbian in this place. Everyone's so stuck-up and repressed."

"I've been married a month. I hate my husband."

"Well, of course... Have you tried being with a man you actually liked?"

"No."

Elsa shrugged. "Something to think about. Did you ever finish that stupid book?"

"Yes." Another bite. "The Empress realizes she can't live on Arrakis forever. She needs real people in her life."

"Does she quit being Empress?"

"No. She just quits being a bitch. Quits with the whole 'will to power' thing."

"Huh."

They walked a while in silence, just enjoying the sound of the birds and the wind in the trees. A carriage passed them on the road. The driver tipped his hat. The sun was bright. And warm. So very, wonderfully warm.

"I love the sun," Elsa said.

"Then why'd you move to England?" Iris asked.

They both giggled.

"Elsa!" Anna called out. She ran from the front door of the Doyle House, practically skipping across the yard. "Elsa I was so- what is _she _doing here?"

"We're just talking," Elsa said.

Iris didn't speak. She just stood there... stiff as a board.

"She came to say she's sorry. Don't worry, Anna... She just needs a friend."

* * *

"Anna?" Elsa asked that night. Her sister had already brushed her hair and was crawling into bed... a real bed, finally, with a real frame and a real mattress. Their bed.

"Yeah?" Anna replied, not looking up from her book.

"Anna, look at me," Elsa sat on the bed next to her, and took her hands. "Anna, do I make you happy?"

"Of course! What's this about?"

"I've just been thinking about things. I was worried you didn't really want to be with me."

"Is this because of what happened with Iris?"

"No," Elsa said. "I think it would have happened anyway. There are things we need to talk through."

Anna crawled out from the covers, kissed her sister, and held her hands. "Elsa... Being in love with you is like falling into the ocean. It's scary. It's overwhelming. Sometimes it's even confusing. But there's so much there to see and know and love. I love you. You're everything to me."

Elsa wiped away her tears. Then she held out a pair of rings.

"These are from Iris," she explained. "It's a present."

"Elsa..." Anna said, taking a ring and gasping at the beauty of it. "What..."

Her sister's finger touched her lip.

"Anna... I want to be with you forever. For the good times and the bad. Even when you're scared or upset or confused. You're the only person I want in this world. Please be my wife. Even if nobody else knows, even if nobody else cares... It can be me and you, forever. I want you to be my wife."

Anna practically threw herself into Elsa's arms, and kissed her. It was a beautiful, passionate, arctic kiss. And they made love long into the night.

* * *

**Epilogue**

In the fall of 1818, Lord Beirsham's new bride vanished. They had been married only four months. He found that she had taken two thousand pounds sterling with her. It did not trouble him. He quickly found a new wife in young Sadie Greenstreet, and they made each other mutually miserable until his death in 1823. The Earldom of Beirsham was not renewed, and the territory was incorporated into Manchester.

It was spring, 1819. Tycho Halvdan, renowned author and philosopher, sat at his desk. He was hard at work on his latest novel, tentatively titled, 'The Inquisition of Oz.'" It was hard work, writing page after page with quill and ink. He had been at it all morning, and his hand was starting to cramp. There was a knock at the door, and he rose. The base of his spine hurt. So did the old wound in his leg. Welcome to thirty, he thought, taking a sip from his teacup. His house was a humble, two-story affair. A sword resting on the mantle was the only military souvenir he had bothered to keep. A cat hid under the sofa. Tycho had never married. He had seen things, and known women, that made everything and everyone else seem pale and hollow by comparison.

He opened the door. And dropped his tea.

It was her. She had hardly aged a day. Perfect, beautiful, regal and proud. Her hair was jet-black and cut short, but he had memorized her face so long ago. She was the... well, the _second_ most beautiful woman in the world.

"Hello," Iris said.

"Elsa..." he whispered.

"I need your help, Tycho," she explained. Then she took his face in her hands and kissed him. Long, and deep, and hard. "But first I want to try something new."

They literally tore each others' clothes off. He stumbled backwards and fell on the couch. Iris-Elsa followed him, straddling and kissing him as she undid his shirt. He abandoned any pretense of caring about her blouse, and let the buttons pop off. For one perfect moment of bliss, he tasted her breasts. In one swift movement, she fell onto her back, dragging him with her. Iris lashed her legs around his waist, and helped him enter her. She gasped when he slid inside.

"Tycho," she whispered between kisses. "Make me your woman."

And so he did.

Twice.

It was barely twenty minutes later, that they lay together in the dreamy, narcotic afterglow of their lovemaking. He held Iris tight against his chest. She listened to the great drumbeat of his heart. It was extraordinary.

For him, at least.

Iris learned something about herself she long suspected but never knew for certain.

"Yep," she whispered, "Definitely a lesbian."

Then she reached into the pile of clothes beside the couch, and produced her father's medal. If there was any chance at all that he was still alive, she was going to find him. And Tycho, loyal fool that he was, was going to help her.

* * *

**END**

_This story continues in 'The Infinite Prison,' followed by "The Ravens of Asgard."_


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